Our Last Goodbyes
by Anakha the Silver
Summary: Sora had everything lined up for him. Recently engaged, planning a wedding, everything perfect. A single crash changes that, and now, for his spirit to find peace, he needs the help of a psychic author named Axel, who isn't pleased. --Alternate Universe--
1. One

The first thing he's aware of is that he's both there, and at the same time, he isn't. He's both lighter than air and heavy enough to sink to the bottom of the unforgiving ocean. His state of consciousness is somewhere between awake and asleep, and there's this intense pain eating away at his very being.

After a few moments, the white begins to fade. He's aware of the sounds of sirens and people shouting. It's all so very close right now, and yet so very far. Slowly, slowly, it begins to become much more clear, much more _there._

His eyes open, and he's suddenly in the middle of a dark street. It's the middle of the night, and there's a fire being put out. He can smell the smoke in the air, along with burning oil. Looking around, he notes the twisted metal of what can only be a car pressed up against the light pole down the street.

"…Losing him! Where's the goddamn stretcher!?"

He snaps to attention, looking ahead of him and down. It makes his eyes go wide, because there, on the asphalt of the street, is a boy with spiky brown hair. He's laid out, and a medic is performing CPR while checking his vitals. There's another there, too, and soon the boy on the ground is being lifted onto a stretcher.

It's him. He's looking at himself, and he can only follow along with a look of horror on his face. What's going on? He can tell, thanks to the machine in the back of the truck, that he's alive—at least for now. But he can't remember what happe—

_Tonight had been amazing. They'd gone on a date. Dinner and a show, just for him. Dinner had been fantastic—fancy but amazing. Roast duck, something he likes to cook but has never been treated to. Delicious sides. He'd never been to a gourmet Chinese restaurant._

_Afterward, they'd gone to the show. A concert at his boyfriend's favorite club—where said boyfriend sang a song just for him. And there, in the middle of it all, during a newly written song—the song written for him…_

_He'd gotten down on one knee. There'd been a ring, and pure joy filled him. There'd never been a happier moment in his life. A proposal, and he'd said yes. The ring, while heavy, fit his finger perfectly. It has a beautiful, heart-shaped diamond set into it._

_They're in the car, laughing and just enjoying life. He's driving, his fiancé. They're already planning out the wedding—hardly traditional in the least. They'll get married on the beach, with as many family and friends as they'll be able to fit. It'll be big, and they'll be happy and go off on a cruise for their honeymoon. Not like they can't afford it._

_The screeching of tires suddenly put an end to the laughter. There's a scream and a sudden force to his side. He feels them both pulled across the way, right into something hard. He's awake, can hear someone calling for help._

_He can't breathe right. There's pain in his chest, and he's hit his head somewhere. There's something wet staining his front, right around the painful place. There's a cloud over his vision, and it's becoming increasingly harder to stay awake. He hurts, and the calls for help are growing more distant. He just wants to sleep, just for a little while, even though someone's calling his name. Even though someone's shaking him… Even though his dreams are slipping away with his—_

It all comes crashing down on him then, the memories of what all had happened that night. His eyes flicker to the precious stone on his hand. It's still there, but now it's stained red by blood. There's a hole in his chest from there something pierced him. He's bleeding, his body's eyes wide.

"Hurry up! I don't know how long the kid'll last!" the paramedic calls up to the front of the ambulance. They're moving fast, as fast as they can. But still, the erratic heartbeat tells him that it's a race against time. He prays, then, that they make it.

"I'm going as fast as I can! These people won't get out of the fucking way! Just stabilize him, it'll be only a little bit longer!" the driver calls back, and the medics work hard to keep the body alive. He can only watch on, watch as they try their hardest.

"Please… Please, I don't wanna die… Not when everything was going so perfectly…" he whispers, though no one can hear him. He wants to cry, but can only watch. Had he any breath in this form, he'd be holding it. But alas, he does not, so he remains entirely silent and watches.

"What happened to him, anyway?" the other medic asks, and his friend looks up quietly. There's a moment of silence—he's stabilized for now, apparently, even though he's watching from the corner. Fingers gently brush soft brown bangs from closed eyes.

"He was driving home with his boyfriend, it seems. Some drunk moron ran a red light, crashed right into them. The other guy managed to get out pretty fine, he'll just need a few bones set and to be checked for internal bleeding. This guy, though… Guy plowed them through construction work. A metal pipe went through the window and right into this kid's chest."

Oh. So that's what happened. It makes sense of everything now, but now he's worried. What about _him?_ What about his boyfriend?

Suddenly, the inside roars to life. The heart monitor lets out a loud sound, and the medics have to hurry. Their charge is dying, his heart giving out. There are numerous things called, the paddles pulled out. They have to revive him, they're almost there. Just a few more minutes, and they'll be there.

"Clear!"

There's a charge and the body jumps. No response beyond that, so they go again. It's the same product. Again. And again. And again.

His eyes are wide, and he can only stare in disbelief.

"…We've lost him." says the first medic. There's a collective sigh, the driver shaking his head and slowing down. No real reason to hurry anymore. The second looks to the side now, and all is silent a moment.

"…Time of death: three-twenty-nine AM."

There's a rushing sound as the ambulance leaves him behind, still standing in mid-air. He's shaking from disbelief, unable to understand what's going on. Not wanting to, either. Instead, he just stands there, allowing cars to pass through him.

The horrible sound of the monitor displaying his own flatlining heart still rings in his ears.


	2. Two

He stares at the computer screen, the blank word document greeting his brilliant blue-green eyes. There should be words on it, but none come to mind. Well, none that make sense or that his editor would like. Not that he particularly _cares_ what Saïx likes or dislikes in his works. He's there to make sure everything makes sense, really. Nothing more, nothing less.

And yet, he can't figure out what the fuck he's going to write. Gee, isn't that just his luck lately? Ever since a certain boy with blond hair left him… And he's currently engaged to another little blonde, isn't he? Ah, the joys of bi boys.

And so, he's lost his muse. Which means no new stories. Which is all well and good because, quite frankly, he's already rich as hell. He only still writes and publishes, he supposes, out of some masochistic enjoyment and sense of obligation.

Even so, he can't think of anything, and the word document on his fancy computer remains blank. Just. Fucking. Great.

With an exasperated sigh, he closes the empty document, shuts down his computer and grabs his coat. It's a chilly January morning, and he plans to go get some coffee or… Something. Who knows? Maybe his creative juices will finally flow.

He doubts it.

So, he heads out to the local Starbucks, where he plops down in a chair after ordering an iced latte or whatever the fuck it is. He honestly doesn't care what it is right now, he's just pissed off at the world, or so it seems.

His order comes, he grabs it and then he heads off to the park. A nice walk might relax him, though he doubts that, too. Instead, he ends up sitting on the fountain. He takes a sip of the drink, swishing it around in his mouth in thought. As it drains down his throat, he allows his head to tilt back and his blue-green eyes to slip shut.

"_What are you talking about, Axel?" the blond asks, obviously either creeped out or thinking he's crazy. He honestly can't blame the kid. What he's saying probably sounds crazy, and if he didn't trust the boy, he wouldn't be here spilling this deep, dark secret._

"_It's exactly how it sounds, Roxas. I can see ghosts. You know? The dead, the deceased, the things people think don't exist?" Axel asks, praying he doesn't seem as crazy as most people seem to think he is. Roxas just stares at him a few moments longer._

"…_Don't kid like that, Axel." is the blond's response. Axel feels his heart sink in his chest. Maybe it's too soon, maybe he's screwed up the one relationship that was ever doing him any good, maybe he just drove the one person he's ever felt like this about away._

"_No, seriously. Ever since I was a little kid. It's always been sorta annoying, because the things won't leave me alone…" Axel says in his defense, praying that the boy understands. There's a moment of silence, and his heart falls further as Roxas gives him that look._

_He's used to it. Why did he expect anything different? Why did he open himself up for this kind of hurt? Because now his heart feels like it's going to break, like he's just been stabbed in the chest or punched in the gut._

"…_Axel, I don't know if I like this. Maybe… You really are crazy. I… I think I'd better go."_

_Roxas gets up then, and turns to walk off. Axel's left at the fountain, fighting back tears as it feels like his heart's been ripped out of his chest still beating. He's never going to open up like this ever again, and he'll probably never love someone like this ever again._

_He'd just fucked up the one good thing in his life and lost his muse._

He gives an aggravated sigh and opens his eyes. The red-head stands up and walks over to the trash can, throwing away the half-drunken latte before beginning to head off. His heart has turned to stone, and he definitely doesn't want to deal with this place again.

The break-up had been a month ago. Roxas had simply called him over the phone and stated that it was over, that he couldn't date someone with a mental problem, that Axel should get some help, and that he never wants to see the author again.

It's a whole huge mess that's left him with many sleepless nights and the inability to write anything. Saïx is pissed, too, _because_ he's not able to write anything. Great. Just fucking great. Why did he have to tell Roxas about his damned curse?

He's always hated it. He got it from his mom, Scarlet. He's always disliked her for it, too. But she's always coped much better than him with these things. She's one of those really powerful businesswomen now, with her own string of companies under her command.

At least he has somewhere to turn if he ends up losing all his money. She may be a total bitch, but she's good to her family. And he's lucky in that he's her only kid, because that means he inherits every single cent she has the moment she finally kicks the bucket.

Hopefully her ghost won't haunt him, because that would just be really fucking bad luck.

Suddenly, Axel stops in his tracks, staring right ahead. There, sitting on a bench in the middle of the goddamn park, in the middle of his already horrible day, is a white boy. And no, not as in the skin color. As in, he is _entirely_ white. His hair, his skin, even his baggy and flowing clothing.

He can only stare at this thing. He knows exactly what it is, and he doesn't want anything to do with it. No more ghosts for him, not after the shit he went through with Roxas because of this ability. Best to just walk away while he—

Great. It's _looking_ at him now. Staring at him with eyes as blue as the sky. It stares blankly at him, blinking once, twice. Then, it tilts its head to the side ever so slightly as if judging things. And the moment that expression lights up, he knows.

_It can tell he can see it._


	3. Three

"But—"

"No."

"Come on—"

"No."

"Just—"

"No."

"_Please!_"

"_**No.**_"

Sora whines as he follows the red-haired author. The ghost pouts, continuing to walk after him. He's not about to give up, not when he has a chance to maybe figure out why he's still here. He can feel it, that something's holding him back from passing on to wherever.

"Come on! It's just a little while, you won't know I'm here half the time, I swear! I just need to find someone and talk to them!" Sora insists. The red-head rolls his eyes, catching a cab back to his apartment. But the ghost doesn't relent, instead following him all the way there.

Axel's begun to realize he's not getting rid of the kid. Best to just ignore him and pray he gets the hint, because he's not moving an inch. Instead, he sits down at his computer and begins to try and write again. He'll just write nonsense if it makes him look busy.

"Please, mister. This person's _really_ important to me. I can remember that we just got engaged on the night we died, and I wanna tell him goodbye."

Axel pauses, images of Roxas flashing through his mind. He can't say that he wouldn't want the same thing were he in this boy's position. Hell, he'd be doing the exact same thing. Even if this gift screwed up his life, still…

"…Fine. What's your name, kid?" Axel finally relents. He feels he might regret it, but hey, what's new about that? He's fucked up everything else in his life. Might as well use the one constant thing in his life and do some good, even if it drives him insane.

"…Sora. My name's Sora Fukui."

Axel suddenly freezes. He stares at the boy, and slowly, slowly, he begins to shrink the kid down into a small, shy child. He hadn't had as many spikes then, but he's still the same person. Still a small fry, too.

"No way. Sora!? It's me, Axel. You know, the guy who got suspended in high school for torching the principal's favorite suit?" he presses. After a moment, recognition rises in the ghost's eyes. Everything seems to be going good, especially now.

"Wow. Never thought I'd see you! And, just… You can see ghosts! That's so cool!"

A crush from high school hits the red-head full force and he has to remind himself that Sora is dead and even then he'd been engaged right before he died so he's off limits. Besides, look at what happened with Roxas. He's just doomed to have horrible relationships.

"Yeah, yeah. Now, who's the lucky guy?" Axel finally asks, bringing up Google on his computer. He waits a few moments, but there's silence. So, he looks back up to Sora. The ghost boy seems distressed, tugging lightly at his hair while chewing his lower lip.

"I… I don't remember…" he whispers. Axel stares at him. This isn't good. If Sora can't remember, they can't find the guy. Meaning that Sora can't pass on. And more importantly, despite the past feelings surfacing, he won't be left alone any time soon.

"…Fine. Then when you remember, tell me. Until then, stay here. Don't go anywhere. And don't touch anything." Axel tells him. Sora nods, then quickly goes off to hide while Axel tries to write. The key word being try.

He stares at the blank screen, is mind wandering to Sora. It must suck to die so young. Sora can't be older than twenty-three. Well, couldn't have been. He's not exactly going to really age anymore. He's kinda dead.

Still, he'd looked so young. How long had it been since the boy had died, anyway? Looks like Google's going to get some use, after all. A few quick words in a search box and he's pulling up a news article about a horrific wreck.

"Huh. A year ago…" Axel mutters to himself. He reads over the article, taking in the gruesome details about how some drunken moron ran a red light and ended up plowing right into the car Sora was in. It had been on Sora's side, too. The boy had been rushed to the hospital, but had died on the way there. He'd simply lost too much blood too survive.

"…Damn, Sora. Bad way to go…" Axel says sadly, shaking his head. He reads further, taking in more of the details. Sora'd left behind his mother, who had immediately started up a fund to help prevent these kinds of accidents, and his recent fiancé.

The name listed in the article makes Axel's jaw drop.

"Holy shit, Sora, you landed a pretty big catch. I mean, come on, Demyx? _The_ Demyx!?" he says in sheer surprise. The kid had landed a rock star. And not just any rock star, but one who happened to be pretty damn famous.

Unfortunately, the guy had dropped off the face of the earth after the death of his young fiancé. Which meant that he couldn't be located. Which meant they were fucked even though they knew who he was. Just. Great.

"…Demyx… …So, that's his name…" comes a voice from over Axel's shoulder. He nods at first, not realizing that the ghost has returned. Then, he pauses and blinks, slowly looking over. Staring over his shoulder is none other than Sora, who is staring down at the computer screen.

"…Yeah. He must've really loved ya, too. Completely vanished after the wreck." Axel explains, Sora nodding. He heaves a sigh, sinking back and frowning. Axel spins his chair around to face him, frowning.

"What's wrong?" he asks. Sora looks up, blue eyes still burning with innocence despite his age and death. In some ways, he's still the boy Axel grew up with—his first muse, the one who got him into writing in the first place by commenting on his talent one day.

"…I can barely remember his face. Have I… …Is that article right? Have I really been dead a full year?" Sora asks with a soft, sad laugh. Axel wants to hug him, comfort him, but that's impossible. The kid's a ghost and he'll go right through him. Any gesture of comfort's going to be useless.

"Afraid so. But, hey, at least you know who he is now, right?" It's an attempt to comfort the ghost boy, and Sora only nods. There are tears, sweet and silver, sliding down his pale, transparent face. Axel feels his heart aching, possibly a bit more than when Roxas said those hurtful words.

"…Yeah, I guess you're right…" Sora says, trying to dry his eyes. Axel smiles, nodding, then turns back to his computer. He opens his e-mail and contacts, looking through them all. When he selects all of them, he begins to type up an e-mail.

Time to put his numerous contacts to work for him for once.


End file.
